


Auld Lang Syne

by JackEPeace



Category: Conviction (TV 2016)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, obligatory New Year's story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: “Why did you invite me tonight?”“Why did you come?” Hayes counters.The warmth in her chest and the bubbles from the champagne are instilling her with a false confidence, reminding her to be brave. “Because I wanted to spend New Year’s with you,” Tess answers. “Because I thought maybe you weren’t inviting me just as your friend.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I know tomorrow is technically New Year's Eve but...why not celebrate a little early!? I was too impatient so I figured why not. So here's to another year of femslash and to more stories featuring Tess and Hayes!

Tess almost throws the envelope out by accident. She's not used to there being anything worthwhile in her mailbox that doesn't come in an Amazon box and the letter is tucked among the coupon flyers and reminders that she needs to find Jesus so she can save her heathen soul. But Tess grabs out the envelope before it can end up in the recycling bin and she looks at it with renewed interest. Her name is printed across the front…no, not printed. Hand written in dazzling calligraphy: Ms. Tess Larson. The envelope is heavy, cream colored and intriguing. There's no return address which makes the latter even more interesting.

After setting aside her purse and keys and slipping off the day's heels, Tess slides a nail underneath the golden seal on the back and pulls the single item carefully out of the envelope. It's an invitation, printed on cardstock; Tess can feel each letter when she brushes her fingers over them.

The invitation is from Senator Morrison, politely requesting Tess's presence at the annual New Year's Celebration, hosted at a swanky museum downtown. Attire is formal, drinks and food to be provided, along with music performed by a live band and festive New Year's Eve entertainment.

Tess has to read the invitation over several times before it really starts to sink in. She's being invited to celebrate the end of the year at a fancy party meant for politicians and celebrities. As a guest of the senator's.

Well, that's not entirely true, Tess reasons. She's being invited, no doubt as a courtesy, by Hayes. It's sweet, if a little strange. She never imagined Hayes as the type to insist that her mother use some of her prized party spots for her CIU colleagues.

Honestly, it's a nice thought. But Tess isn't going to go. She'd never fit in at a place like that with diplomats and politicians and celebrities and just the thought of it is enough to turn her stomach into knots. She'll have to thank Hayes for the invite and spend the night like she always does: hiding from the tourists crowding in Times Square.

But still, it was a nice gesture. Tess sticks the invitation onto her fridge, where it shines brightly among the take-out menus and old photographs of her as a kid or during her first years in college.

And, on second thought, she keeps the envelope too. Obviously someone went to a lot of trouble to write her name on it. It's the least she can do.

* * *

 

Tess walks into the CIU the following morning, wondering if anyone else is planning on attending this fancy New Year's party. No offense toward her friends but she can't imagine them there any easier than she can picture herself in a situation like that. Except for Sam, but only because it seems like the type of place he'd enjoy brownnosing and rubbing elbows.

Briefly, Tess wonders if Hayes sent an invite to Wallace as well. Even if she didn't, it seems likely that Senator Morrison would sent out the invitation herself, seeing as they're supposed to be close friends. She doesn't know why the idea of Wallace there, fitting in so seamlessly and maybe even getting to dance with Hayes as midnight approaches, bothers her so much.

When Tess joins Frankie and Maxine in the conference room, neither of them look up from the case files they're studying. And neither of them mention the party invitation. Tess has no idea why this bothers her but she suddenly feels desperate for one of them to bring it up, just so she doesn't have to. She wants to talk about it, to mention to someone that yes, she of all people _did_ get invited to a party by the senator but she's not planning on going and once that conversation is out the way then it never has to be brought up again.

Unfortunately, neither Franke nor Maxine are bringing it up at all.

Tess taps her fingers impatiently as she studies the picture of a murder victim paperclipped to the front of the case file she picked up. She reads through the typed synopsis of the case before setting the file aside; the conviction seems relatively sound even at first glance.

When Tess picks up another file, she finds herself asking, "Do you two have any New Year's plans?"

Seems like a sound way to get the conversation to turn toward the invites without having to bring it up deliberately.

Maxine shrugs. "My son likes to stay up a watch the ball drop," she says. "We drink sparkling cider and sometimes my father comes over for a little while. Incredibly mundane."

Frankie shakes his head. "Never been much of a fan," he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "What about you?"

Tess studies them closely, trying to figure out if they found the invitation from Senator Morrison so humdrum that they're not even going to mention it at all. Frankie misinterprets her staring and adds, "You're welcome to come to my place. We can order pizza."

Frowning, she shakes her head. "No…I…"

Sam walks in at that moment and spares Tess from her internal debate as to whether she should mention the invite or not. She looks at him hopefully, eager for his brashness to take over the conversation and ask them about the New Year's party. But he's grumbling about the commute and seems about as interested in the end of the year as Maxine and Frankie.

Tess frowns, considering this turn of events. This morning is already not going as she'd expected it to.

When she gets Frankie alone, Tess can't contain her curiosity anymore. "Did you get invited to Senator Morrison's New Year's Party?"

Frankie looks at her like he can't believe that sentence just came out of her mouth. Honestly, she can't either.

"No?" Frankie answers, spinning the wheel to slide open the door to the file room. "Why would she invite me to any kind of party?"

Tess frowns, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Why indeed.

"Did you?" Frankie presses as he hands her an evidence box.

Tess feels her cheeks go hot and she isn't quite sure why. "I…I got an invitation last night…it must just be some kind of fluke…" Though her carefully written name on the front would suggest otherwise. She smiles as Frankie. "It must be, right?"

Frankie doesn't say anything. He just shakes his head, grabbing another box off the shelf. Tess isn't sure if he's shaking his head at her or the whole situation.

They start back toward the elevator. "You're going, right?" He asks as he presses the button with his elbow.

"Probably not," Tess says quickly. They step into the elevator and she doesn't look at him. "I don't think that kind of party is for me."

Tess doesn't want to think too much into it. She doesn't want to let her mind get carried away and weave a tangled web that will only disappoint her when it falls apart. It's better just to play it safe, to throw the invitation away when she gets home and vow never to mention it to anyone else. And playing it safe is definitely something Tess Larson is good at.

* * *

 

Tess bends down, studying the contents of the refrigerator. She's taken to stashing her yogurt toward the back so it takes her a minute to root out one of the cartons but at least it's safer from the food thief they have running around the office. A thief whose name undoubtedly starts with Hayes and ends with Morrison.

Straightening up, Tess turns around and lets out a yelp when she bumps into the person standing directly behind her. Speak of the devil. Hayes flashes her an impish smile. "Sorry, Tinkerbell, didn't mean to scare you." She steps around Tess, pulling the fridge door back open. "And here I thought we were out of yogurt."

Tess frowns, watching as Hayes studies the contents of the refrigerator. "Don't you ever bring your own food?"

Hayes shrugs, seemingly satisfied with the Chinese takeout she's managed to find. Tess can see Sam's name written across the top of the carton so she's willing to bet that Hayes can too. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Well, Sam will probably-"

Hayes waves her fork dismissively. "Eh, he can just add it to the ever-growing list of things he doesn't like about me." Before Tess can say anything more, Hayes adds, "Did you get my letter?"

Tess's brow furrows. "Your-"

"Well, I guess it wasn't technically my letter," Hayes corrects, stepping around Tess and toward the entrance to the breakroom. "But I had Jackson swipe me an invite so that counts, right? You should wear yellow. It suits you."

Hayes is gone without giving Tess the smallest opportunity to interject a comment or question of her own. And, like usual, Tess just feels her thoughts swirling around in the wind caused by Hurricane Hayes.

Well, that certainly settles things.

Looks like she's going to have to find something yellow to wear.

* * *

 

Tess let's out a nervous laugh when the suited man at the entrance of the museum tells her that her name is on the list and waves her through. His expression betrays his boredom and indifference to this task and he doesn't seem to notice the anxious look on Tess's face that doesn't fade even after she's been given the okay. There's a part of her that's still expecting to find that all of this is just some kind of mistake, that even her conversation with Hayes the other day was something she made up in her mind to justify going out on New Year's and getting all dressed up. But the invitation was rightfully hers, proven by the fact that her name now has a checkmark beside it on the extensive list the bouncer has on his tablet. She's present and accounted for…for better or worse.

No one pays her much attention as she walks through the atrium. The constant flashes from photographers' cameras reflect off the polished marble floors, creating a dizzying effect that makes Tess pity the people deemed worthy to stand around and pose for pictures. She doesn't envy them in the slightest, these men and women in their expensive dresses and suits, lavish jewelry glittering in the camera's flash. She recognizes some of them: notable politicians, celebrities, media personalities -but none of them are the person she's hoping to see.

Once Tess steps into the main ballroom, she immediately feels underdressed. Her dress had looked perfect when she's put it on before leaving her apartment; then she'd felt like Belle getting ready for her infamous dance with the Beast. Now she feels like a little girl playing dress-up in clothes found in her mother's closet. Tess tries not to stare, tries not to imagine how expensive each of these beautiful dresses must have cost. A few women smile at her as she passes, their expressions friendly enough even as they try to figure out how they might know her or what connection she might have to the senator. Tess has been asking herself that same question since she stepped into the museum; suddenly, working with Hayes doesn't seem like a good enough reason to be here.

Especially since Hayes is nowhere to be seen. Tess fidgets nervously with the strap of her purse, glancing around at all the partygoers. Everyone is here to rub elbows with Senator Morrison and to look good while doing it -the excuse of ringing in the new year is a convenient one. Tess is grateful when a sharp-suited waiter walks by, hanging her a flute of champagne before she even has to ask. Even though she wants to down it all at once, she forces herself to sip on the champagne and give herself something to do.

Tess catches sight of Harper Morrison from across the room. She's flanked on one side by her husband, the former United States President, and on the other by her son, who seems to be attempting to micromanage her appearance. Hayes is nowhere in sight, which honestly doesn't surprise Tess; she should have taken that into consideration before agreeing to attend this stupid party. Hayes could be a dozen different places right now, avoiding her parents and the media and celebrating the end of the year in some hole-in-the-wall bar Hayes Morrison style. Tess tries not to let herself get too disappointed by this mental image.

Someone taps her on the shoulder and Tess manages to whirl around without tripping over her dress or spilling her champagne. Hayes is smiling at her and Tess is incredibly relieved that she's not off in some nameless bar somewhere, leaving her feeling like she's been stood up. "Tinkerbell. You clean up nice."

Tess figures she could say the same about Hayes but Hayes always looks like she was born to wear a slinky dress and heels. She's wearing blue, hair pulled back so that her shoulders are bare and there's a slit in the bottom that shows off the perfect amount of leg. Not that Tess is looking.

Okay, she's looking. You try not to stare at Hayes Morrison.

"And you went with yellow," Hayes continues, seeming not to notice that Tess's tongue is glued to the roof of her mouth. "I'm flattered."

"You look great," Tess says finally, relieved that she's rediscovered the ability to speak. "Thank you for inviting me."

Hayes gives her a conspiratorial smile. "Thanks for coming." She rolls her eyes. "I'm sure there are a million places you'd rather be other than some bougie New Year's party. It's nice to see a friendly face."

Tess is flattered that out of everyone Hayes could have invited to keep her entertained at a necessary family gathering, she was the one who got the invitation. Of course, that does little to settle her nerves; it'll only be a matter of time before Hayes finds herself wishing she'd picked someone else to spend her evening with.

But rather than let herself be bogged down by the inevitable, Tess just smiles, hoping that she can at least convincingly fake confidence. "Well, let's make the most of it."

Hayes clinks her champagne glass against Tess's. "Cheers." She finishes the rest of her drink, setting the flute on one of the nearby tables. "Let's dance."

Tess doesn't get the chance to protest because Hayes is taking her own glass out of her hands and pulling Tess along behind her toward the open space where a handful of other couples are dancing along to the live band.

Tess isn't sure that she would call what they're doing 'dancing', at least not in the traditional sense. But there's some movement in time with music -too silly or self-conscious to be considered choreographed- and Hayes' is laughing and her genuine smile is infectious and the fleeting moments where Hayes' hands light on her waist or shoulders make the spectacle they're causing worth it.

The tempo of the band slows somewhat and it's good to have a moment to catch her breath. Tess smiles at Hayes. "Your hair," she reaches up to tug one of the loose, messy tresses, "it's coming loose."

"Oh, fuck it," Hayes says breezily. "I hate that hair style anyway."

Tess tucks the wayward curl behind Hayes' ear. "It looks better like this," she assures her, emboldened by Hayes' all too fleeting touch and the music still thrumming through her veins.

Hayes grins, her smile uncertain rather than wolfish. "You think?"

Tess only rolls her eyes. "You always look great."

"So do-"

"Hayes." They both turn to face Harper Morrison, striding confidently in their direction and looking mesmerizing in her sleek, white gown. There's a smile on her face and Tess's heart falls to the floor when she sees Wallace standing there beside Harper. "Look who I found," she trills happily, presenting Wallace to Hayes like he's part of the hors' d'oeuvres tray being passed around.

Hayes frowns, though it's difficult to tell who is supposed to be bearing the brunt of her expression. Wallace doesn't seem to notice, his eyes taking in Hayes' appearance before moving over to Tess. "It's good to see you, Tess," he says politely, leaning in and kissing her cheek. "And you look as ravishing as always, Hayes."

"Mother," Hayes says flatly, "I thought we agreed we weren't going to mix business with pleasure tonight."

Harper seems miffed by her comment. "Well, I know that's what we talked about but…" Her eyes move to Tess. "Don't I recognize her from your office?"

"Well, that's different," Hayes says, lifting her chin. She throws her arm around Tess's shoulders easily, like they've done it a million times before. "Tess is here as my date."

Tess looks at the floor so she doesn't look as surprised as Harper and Wallace. "Your date?" Harper frowns. "Oh, Hayes."

Wallace lifts an eyebrow. "I didn't realize."

Hayes shrugs. "Nothing like a little inner-office dating to pass the time, right Wallace?" Hayes looks at him expectantly, challenging him to refute her comment. "Tess, what do you say we go somewhere to really ring in the new year, hmm?"

Tess gives Wallace and Senator Morrison a parting smile as she allows herself to be tugged away by Hayes. Once they're safely out of ear shot, Hayes laughs and lets her arm fall away from Tess. She can't help but miss the weight of it.

"Sorry to put you on the spot like that but it really was the perfect opportunity," Hayes says, glancing over her shoulder to study her mother and Wallace. Harper is saying something to Wallace, no doubt apologizing for some crime she believes her daughter to have committed. "I'll set the record straight with team."

Tess shrugs, trying to mimic Hayes' nonchalant demeanor. "It's fine. I don't mind." What she really means is that she doesn't mind in the least if people think about her as Hayes' girlfriend, though it would be the part that they were faking it that would bother her the most. In so many ways, she's still just a teenager with a crush.

"Let's get out of here," Hayes declares suddenly. "I can't handle this bullshit anymore. You up for it?"

Like she even has to ask.

* * *

 

On the way out, Hayes snags a champagne bottle from a waiter who knows better than to protest when he sees just who is doing the pilfering. She's attempting to wrest the cork loose as they walk down the city streets, a sight in their flowing gowns. The air around them is freezing but Tess feels a warmth starting to spread through her chest, keeping her hot from the inside. It comes from having Hayes there beside her, from being the one Hayes picked to spend her night with. It comes from the memory of Hayes' arm around her shoulders, the weight and smell of her. It comes from the looks they get from strangers, the girlish thrill that comes from the idea that these people see them and think they're glamorous, adventurous, mysterious. They think she fits in with someone like Hayes, that she belongs with her. Tess wants so badly for that to be true, to hold onto that feeling and carry it with her for the next twelve months, a New Year's resolution worth keeping.

Every place seems to be busy: every street corner and tourist trap, every sidewalk and hole in the wall. Everywhere seems to be glittering with the promise of a new year, with the possibilities that seem so easy to reach on a night like tonight. Tess is glad they aren't heading for a bar or restaurant or the gaping maw that is Times Square.

But that doesn't mean she's not surprised when Hayes plunks them down on a concrete planter outside a dark office building, the newly opened champagne bottle between them. On the way, she'd insisted they stop for food because she was "ravenous" (her words, perfectly suited for Hayes Morrison, Tess reasons) and so now Tess is sitting in her fluffy, new yellow dress, a hot dog in her hands, watching as Hayes spreads ketchup across her own. She notices Tess watching her and smiles, impish rather than hesitant, like she was earlier in the night. "You have to admit this is better than my mother's idea of a party."

Tess isn't complaining. "I somehow never imagined that this was your scene." This being New York City outside, the concrete cold even through their dresses, with a hot dog and champagne and an hour to midnight.

Hayes lifts an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me?" She gestures to their surroundings: clutter on the sidewalk, neon signs flickering from closed stores, cars and people moving around them, hot dogs and champagne. "This is totally my aesthetic."

Tess grins and that warm feeling is still there in her chest, assuring her that anything is possible. When Hayes smiles in response, it's quieter, her expression more contemplative. "I don't think I see you smile very much at the office."

A shrug. "What's there to smile about? All those innocent people in jail and people who stay dead no matter who we help."

"Now, now Tinkerbell, don't go getting all fatalistic on me," Hayes cautious playfully. "You're supposed to be the bright spot of my day."

Tess studies her, trying to figure out if she's kidding. "Am I?"

Hayes takes a sip from the champagne bottle and passes it over. "I like to think so. But feel free to join Sam in being a pain in my ass."

Tess takes a drink and grimaces, mostly out of habit. "No thank you." She hands the bottle back to Hayes, managing not to drop her hot dog in the process. She has no idea how Hayes manages so effortlessly.

Hayes salutes her with the bottle. "Good. I like you more than Sam. Feel free to tell him that."

"I will," Tess assures Hayes. She hesitates for a moment, her smile faltering, before she asks, "Why did you invite me tonight?"

"Why did you come?" Hayes counters.

The warmth in her chest and the bubbles from the champagne are instilling her with a false confidence, reminding her to be brave. "Because I wanted to spend New Year's with you," Tess answers. "Because I thought maybe you weren't inviting me just as your friend."

"Maybe I didn't," Hayes says, setting the bottle aside and letting her fingers brush across Tess's hand. "Maybe I wanted to see you in a dress and dance with you all night and kiss you at midnight."

Tess is certain she's blushing all the way to her chest, certain that Hayes can hear the thrumming of her heart. "We left the party," she points out, trying to hold on to some of her composure, "so I guess the dancing is out."

Hayes shrugs. "Not necessarily. But I'll settle for the kiss instead."

She leans in and Tess surprises both of them by turning her head away; Hayes lips graze against her cheek and she shivers anyway. "It's not midnight," she chides teasingly.

Hayes growls at her playfully and Tess hopes that she doesn't notice how she shivers again. "Well, I can be patient."

Tess looks at her skeptically. "Can you?"

Hayes shrugs, leaning out of Tess's space and retrieving the champagne bottle. "For something good I can be."

Tess has lost track of how long she's been hoping that Hayes would say something just like that to her. So there's no real reason why she hears herself say, "What about Wallace?" She definitely doesn't want to be thinking about Wallace right now and she doesn't want Hayes to be either.

Hayes looks equally surprised, though she hides it better. "What about Wallace?"

"He seemed to think he was your something good," Tess points out, thinking back to the smug expression Wallace had worn when he'd seen Hayes at the party. Like he was certain of where they stood and where they'd been and where they'd be by the end of the night.

Hayes gives her a look, her hand resting heavy over Tess's. "If I wanted to be with Wallace, I'd be with him right now."

Tess looks at Hayes tentatively, wishing that she could be as brave and certain and confident as the woman across from her. "You want to be with me." It manages to sound like neither a question nor a statement, just a string of words holding them in limbo. "Tonight?"

"Yes," Hayes answers honestly. "But I wouldn't say no to tomorrow either. Or the day after that. Who knows, I'm a terrible planner."

It's hardly a declaration of lasting love but Tess wouldn't want anything else, not from Hayes. This time she's the one to lean in for the kiss and their lips brush together briefly before Hayes turns her head. Her expression is playful. "It's not midnight yet."

"It is somewhere," Tess says. "In some places, it's already tomorrow."

"In that case," Hayes leans in, letting her fingers tangle in Tess's hair, pulling them close, "Happy New Year."

Their lips meet and Tess lets her eyes flutter closed, her fingers twining together with Hayes'. The kiss is frustratingly gentle, nothing more than a promise of what's to come, a hint of what could be. It's just enough to make Tess feel brave enough to follow through on those promises, to see what lies ahead for them. And if this is going to be an indication of the year to come, then Tess isn't complaining one bit.


End file.
